Those Who Die At Sea
by ABlurInTheWind
Summary: when a person dies at sea, they don't ascend to a holy light, they sink to the depths of their ocean as a newly created mer-creature. Marik Ishtar, he's beautiful, he's sixteen, and he has drowned. Bakura, an aspiring diver, makes a rather shocking discovery one night on an illegal dive. the creature is annoying, and perhaps just the thing Bakura needs in his rather drab life.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, this is my second thiefshipping fic in progress. I saw this thing on tumblr that was like "what if when people die at sea they become a mermaid?" and I was like O.o MUst WrITe! so, here you go. Please, please review. **

Mermaids never existed; that's what anyone will say. Professors, men and woman with fancy titles, big well-known names, and accents from all over the world will say that. They think the myth started when sailors who had too much to drink looked off into the horizon and mistook a matinee for a gorgeous woman. That they were simply so deprived of the feminine element their brain took over and created a mirage of what they longed for most. However despite holding so much power, there was only so much of the real image that could be faked, resulting in the lower body of a fish; a mermaid.

Of course more than one man saw them, and with each sighting grew more and more stories, fisherman's tales, conspiracies. People around the world saw them, more than a few going so far as to sail out and attempt to capture one; bring it back alive and become rich. Some would be lost to the great blue, while others made plans to fake a mermaid. Poor young woman trapped in suits or forced naked into large tanks until their lungs burst and they drowned. At one era, monkey bodies sewn to the tails of fish; that hadn't lasted long.

For over hundreds of years the idea of mermaids, beautifully marvelous water beings, enchanted the world. The over all idea of their appearance never drastically changing; though myths and folk tales wasted no time in rising. Some believed they were warriors of Heaven sent to watch over man and his world, others said demons sent by Lucifer to spite God; taking his beloved creation and dragging them down, drowning them.

Though none of that matters, it's all tall tales. This, however, is not.

Merpeople are not just born. Despite what humanity thinks, its far more gruesome than natural child birth, and not something to be celebrated. Yes, it's the start of a new life; but unlike humans it's also the end of a previous one. There are no balloons or stuffed animals, no smiling faces and laughter. There is tears and pain and so, _so _much agony because for them there new life is death. A merperson is created when that of a human perishes at sea. Tens of feet below, cold, scared, and feeling their chest tighten and fill heavy with water soaked lungs. When they are alone and left to nothing but blackness below and the terror of thoughts.

He's a beautiful thing. He's young at sixteen, full of life and ambitious. Tan skin and tall and violet eyes lined with kohl and fresh on his first sailing experience. His name is Marik Ishtar, he's beautiful; he's going to die.

The Atlantic is large and harsh, unforgiving and does not coddle the small humans who dare travel upon her. She throws harsh waves and brews witches storms in the sky, concocting mighty thunder and hissing lightning to set the sails ablaze. Waves become Poseidon's claws as he tears at the ship, tossing it and hurling it great distances, throwing a young boy over the wooden railing. He had cried out, violet eyes wide, but over the noise of the storm he was nothing more than mute.

His back hit the water first, sending shocks of needle-like pain through out his body. With in moments the cold blanketed him, wrapping him up and seeping deep into his bones replacing the marrow that lay there. water craves his caramel skin and laps viscously at it, sweeping into his wide frightened eyes and drenching his hair. Liquid force pushes down on him and his lungs barely hold any air, before he can take a breath he's been submerged a dozen feet. muscles lock up and he struggles towards the surface, clawing with all his might. It's only a second before he's been pushed back under and the lack of oxygen is disorienting him greatly. Another dozen feet, then a dozen more, and before he can resist he is over one hundred feet below in the Atlantic's stomach.

His eyes are useless to see though if he could it would be hell's fire engulfing the ship with his family above him, and his lungs feel ready to burst with the water that invades them. His heart beats so slow but so hard perhaps it will burst from his chest. it echoes like war drums in his ears and finally it stutters and stops, like a worthless car engine. violet eyes don't close and it wouldn't matter any other way because closed or open all he will see is black, and he knows once tan skin is taking on a grim gray color, and he falls ever farther. He doesn't know that, of course, because the dead can not think.

His name _was _Marik Ishtar, he _was _sixteen, beautiful, and he _has _died.

**Should I continue?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, everyone! I'm incredibly shocked with the amount of support this story has gotten so soon in the making, and for that I want to say thank you all, so much. I debated over how exactly marik's mer-appearance would look, because the tail plays a major part in the looks and story, but I think I got it. **

**What's "show .com"? a guest reviewer said "You should show .com this!" and I was confused..**

When Marik's eyes open again after what seems like a vortex of millennia (who knows, maybe it has been that long.) everything is dark. Not the light dark like the kind you see late at night when you lay out and look at the stars, no. That type of dark while still intimidating carries a comforting sense, like a small blanket in a cold room. What he sees at the moment is nothing like that. It's the type of dark that sears your eyelids and gives you a headache because your brain strains so hard to pick up colors that _are not_ there. The kind that makes you light headed and causes your throat to constrict.

Marik panics and rapidly blinks his eyes, he can feel something squeeze trough his lashes with how fast he moves them, and it does nothing to bring his any comfort. He realizes through a slight numb feeling that the space in his chest where his heart should he constricting in terror is still. Slowly he drapes his shaky fingers over his chest (it's cold, he realizes) and pushes, waiting to feel his heart beat reassuringly against his finger pads; it doesn't come. At least, not at first. In the next moment it beats so strongly it rocks his whole frame and for a moment he fears it may be able to leap out of his chest. Pains worms into his veins like a parasite and wraps him in a vice grip. He opens his mouth to scream but no sound comes out.

If a corpse had ever been reanimated he thinks perhaps this is what it would feel like. He still can't see but each second he can feel his heart quake in his chest and the pain that comes with it. Like skeletal fingers sinking into his flesh and ripping a journey outwards across his body, with each beat he can feel a bit more. Lungs spasm in their chambers and his mouth instinctually opens to take in new oxygen and push out the used. Another beat and his shoulders and upper arms are his to command again; soon enough he can move them fluidly again unlike when he first touched his chest. Marik can feel his whole upper body now, and, while it's still cold, it isn't as bad as before and that brings him a small comfort. The only thing he can't feel are his legs.

Reaching down he feels blindly through the darkness, because he thinks maybe he can see, it's just too dark, and runs his fingers over his upper thigh. Except what he feels isn't his thigh, but rather a sharp, slippery _something _that pokes into the soft skin on the pads of his fingers. The reaction is immediate and fearing that whatever is so close to him he rockets off the ground and up into the darkness. Fight or flight, and the wise and live-long choose flight more often than not. His thoughts are like a rotten cease pool that's been stagnate for far too long, and all he can focus on his the darkness in front of him that is slowly becoming not-so-dark now. Black becomes midnight and midnight turns to navy until finally blue gives away to a murky crystal as he stops just under surface of whatever he's currently in.

It doesn't take long for him to realize he's in a liquid, and he's breathing. Violet eyes widen to the size of saucers and he throws his head down so fast to look at his chest he almost gets whiplash. Gawking isn't doing anything good for his situation, but it's all he can manage when something purple shifting below him catches his eyes. Assuming the worst, meaning a predator, he reels back, and is shocked when the thing below follows his movements naturally; like a flowing stream of water. Moving again he tests the mobility of what's below him, and when he leans himself back in the water to get a better look in the sun light provided from above, imagine his shock when he sees it's attaches to him. At the waist to be more accurate.

It's long, so long he can't see where it ends, and thick, covered in varying shades of amethyst and gold scales. A few inches below his navel the scales appear to merge perfectly with his skin, and for the life of him he can't tell where they end and tanned skin takes over. Something brushes against his limp finger tips and he realizes that his arms fell to his sides in shock. Looking closer he sees two long, spike platted fin-like appendages cutting through the water at his sides. They're keeping him upright, he realizes. Experimentally he concentrates and tries to move them on his own, blinking in fascination when they obey his will and fan out, creating a rather pretty sight. Pushing farther he lunges, pushing his hips back through the water, and what he can only assume is a tale following the motion, pushing him up slightly in the newly discovered water. Marik still cant see the whole thing but now that he thinks about it and focuses he can feel it, just like his could feel his legs.

Suddenly he remembers something: he's supposed to be dead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello to those of you who continue to read my little story. Any typo's I would like to apologize for. I don't have a Beta and I write everything on the stop, so this story is very much "stop and go". I ask that you please over look any errors. **

**Someone asked me what my tumblr was; to those of you who want to follow me its: iamavelociraptorr. yes, two r's. and yes, the picture is actually one of me. ignore my ugly face when you see it. Now, onward. **

It's enormous, he thinks, as he twists his body in unimaginable ways to finally get the whole tail into view. Fins and frills stretch to balance out his no doubt alarming weight and the luxurious, large double-tipped fin at the end of his tail beats rhythmically through the cyan water around him. They seem lax when he's simply floating but harden to propel him when he wants to move. Flashing shades of gold as the jagged inner webbing between the split muscle sways like exotic fabric. The cease pool in his mind can't allow him to appreciate the tail though, because Marik's stuck on one simple fact; he should be dead.

Marik's mind is finally starting to clear and the cease morphs to sludge and then perhaps closer to something like a muddy river. It isn't perfect, but it's enough for him to form some thoughts and piece things together. Blurry images flashed across the inside of his eyelids and wove together a rapid and confusing tale of water, raging skies, and a liquid grave. Or rather what _should _have been a liquid grave. Thoughts halt however when something brushes his arm again and as he looks over he thinks maybe it's one of his frills, and wonders if the touch will become a regular thing. When the material is finally in sight he's confused because the frills are at his sides, lazy and pointed down, there's no way they could have brushed his upper arm. Tilting his head further to the side his lilac eyes widening, because he can't comprehend. Human legs, barely being kept together by a few weak strings of sinew and artery, float dangerously close to him; it doesn't take Marik long to realize that they were what touched him.

Shock filters through him and he yelps, air pushing through his gills a bit too fast and causing painful bubbles to be pushed through the thin slits of sensitive skin into the water,; racing each other to the surface. Wincing he reels back from the severed pieces of human remain as fast as his tail will allow. The current he causes pushes the legs in the opposite direction and although he doesn't want to he can't tear his eyes away and he really looks at them this time. Long and thin but in no way lacking muscle and he deduces probably male. A small sliver of skin on the left leg near the ankle is noticeably lighter in color and show the signs of something covering the area from sun. An anklet, possibly. No, definitely. Marik always felt more comfortable with his gold band securely around his left ankle, and as he looks down at his torso where the scales so easily melt into him his head screams at him. Screams at him to run, cry, be in denial and upset because _those are his legs. _

Marik doesn't think as he twists in the water, frills and fans spreading wide to control as much water as possible as he undulates his tail; willing it to take him far from this place. Anywhere will do so no complaints pass his mind as he speeds in an unknown direction. Water arcs to pass between his webbed fingers and under his hip fins as it allows him to glide through invisible forces and Marik wonders how he knows when to bens a fin, expand a frill, flick his head fans that replace his ears. Is it instinctual or no? Instinctual is far more likely an answer.

He curses himself for not paying attention (If Ishizu were here she would scold him) when he collides with another mass, this one far warmer than the last two and much bigger. As he's shaking his head to chase away the black and white spots and pushes the hair from his eyes the thing _grunts _and Marik realizes he's hit something alive. When vision returns to him he looks at the thing he's hit, and astonished to find another being that has a serpentine tail. The thing, person, being? is still obviously recovering and that gives Marik the opportunity to take in and evaluate the other, who is clearly male by the flat chest.

Tan skin glistens with the rays that are brave enough to reach through the water and an array of gold bands surround his wrists and upper arms. He is in no way meek, as smooth muscles in compacted under his skin, but not so grotesquely muscular. The tail is breathtaking and something to be marveled; long like his own but that is where the similarities end. The other's is a deep scarlet with splattered ichor scales. Massive frills and fans line his tail and at the end three trident shaped shimmering gold fins beat the water, hip find beating the water in his moment of disoriented confusion. Marik can't be sure but he thinks he's sees another set of gargantuan fins folded against the other's back, and he wonders if maybe they spread out not unlike wings.

Tri-colored hair explodes around the other's head and swishes around the ear rings that have been pushed through black tipped head frills. When the stranger finally lifts his head Marik sees a well sculpted jaw, high cheek bones, and a regal nose. And when he looks up just a bit more he locks his own set of eyes with another pair of sharp garnet. They bore into him and set him to unease because he can't read the emotions from those eyes, and he doesn't know if the more intimidating and clearly stronger male before him will be so forgiving.

Marik gulps and he thinks his head fans flatten into a state of submissiveness, "I-I'm sorry."

**There you go! I hope you liked it, and please review! Any guesses as to who the other mer is? Haha.**


End file.
